Hunger Strike
by eight 0f hearts
Summary: One day, the food runs out.


**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the order in which the words are written.  
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**A/N: I feel I must warn everyone that this story is HORRIBLY SCIENTIFICALLY INACCURATE.**

**Really, really not happy with this story, but I'm just churning it out to get over the dreaded writer's block.  
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**(Dedicated to temarcia.)  
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><p>(<strong>contrary to what movies will have you believe, not everything tastes like chicken<strong>)

The food has run out.

It's not the first time it's happened, but this time around, it's a rather more dire situation. There's no more canned food in the vicinity, the rats and other assorted creatures have died out, and everything else is either perishable and long gone off, or dangerously radioactive.

Snippy shuts the empty cupboard and rests his head against the closed doors, thinking.

It has been a week since Pilot left for supplies and came back empty-handed with a broken nose. Hostile waste-landers had taken over the derelict supermarket, hoarding the stock in there for themselves.

It has been three days since Snippy noticed the supplies getting low and warned Captain that they should probably start moving to a place with more animals, or more things to scavenge.

Captain had ignored him, declaring "Food is for the weak!" and setting off on a quest to dig the biggest hole in the world. Pilot had done most of the digging, Captain supervised and Engie occupied himself with the physics of stopping the hole caving in on them, which left Snippy to hover around and worry and watch the cans of food vanish one after another.

And now the cupboard is as barren as the wasteland.

Snippy closes his eyes. He's searched the surrounding area and apart from the supermarket, there is nothing. It will take them three weeks to get out of this fruitless area and into some place where they might find food.

Three weeks.

Could you starve to death in three weeks?

* * *

><p><strong>DAY ONE<strong>

"There's no need to panic," Engie says. "People have gone for longer periods of time without eating."

"I am not panicking," Snippy replies irritably. He looks over at Pilot and Captain who are setting up "DO NOT TOUCH" signs around their hole, on the off-chance that some random person will wander by and decide to fill it all back in again.

"Yes you are," Engie says with a touch of smugness.

Snippy scowls at him. "No, I'm not. I just want to get moving so we can find some food already. Hurry up!" he calls over to the two of them.

"Why are you being such a grumpy-face?" Pilot questions as he trots over, slinging his shovel over his shoulder.

"You can't even see my face," Snippy mutters.

They start walking.

**DAY TWO**

"There might be fish," Engie suggests, peering down into the water.

Snippy wrinkles his nose. "I wouldn't trust the water, let along the wildlife," he mutters. "There's nothing here. We should keep moving."

Something ripples further out into the black lake, and both of them take a wary step back. Turning, Snippy heads back up the riverbank towards Captain and Pilot, Engie trailing after him.

"Are we there yet?" Pilot grumbles as they started walking again.

"Nope!" Snippy replies with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"Where are we going again?" Pilot inquires. He turns to the Captain, but it is Engie who answers.

"We're walking in a straight line and hoping we don't drop dead from malnutrition. Now stop talking and keep a look out for rats."

Had his mask been off, Snippy was certain Pilot would have been pouting.

"I only take orders from the Captain. Captain! Where are we going?" Pilot asks, prancing forward a few steps then turning and walking backwards so that he can look at the Captain face-to-face.

The Captain pauses. "Candyland," he declares suddenly.

Snippy tries very hard not to roll his eyes.

"Really?" Pilot asks, hands clasping together in glee.

"No," Snippy replies flatly.

"Yes, we are. I trust the Captain, I don't trust you, you're a jiggly slug and you tell me horrid lies." Pilot lifts his hands to the sides of his head and rather childishly wiggles his fingers at Snippy.

Snippy: "We are not going to Candyland."

"Oh yes we are," Captain cuts in, then turns and begins to walk in a completely different direction. Pilot shouts with joy and skips after him.

Snippy exchanges a worried glance with Engie, but the two of them follow.

"Captain, you're taking us back towards the centre," Engie points out when they stop some hours later. He lifts up a crudely drawn map of the surrounding wasteland, a dark circle marking the foodless zone that they are currently in. "If we keep wasting more time we're going to starve to death."

After two days without food, 'there's no need to panic' has turned into a rather pessimistic 'this is a very serious situation and starvation is looking like a distinct possibility. Try to breathe calmly.'

"Silence, minion! Do not question my judgement." Captain taps his foot impatiently as they wait for Pilot to tie his shoelace. "I know exactly where I am going."

"And where is that, then?"

"Candyland, apparently," Snippy interjects, coming up next to them. He folds his arms and turns to Captain. "We haven't eaten in two days. This isn't a game."

"You do not trust your Captain?" Captain clasps one hand to his heart, dramatically feigning hurt. "That wounds me. Do my plans not always work out spectacularly?"

"Spectacularly _badly_," Snippy mutters, but by now Pilot is bouncing back up and they are walking again.

**DAY THREE**

There is a persistent dull ache in the bottom of Snippy's stomach and he's started getting headaches, both from hunger and from lack of sleep. Their walking pace has slowed to a trudge, and if they don't get to wherever they're going soon, Snippy isn't sure how long they're going to last.

"We're all going to die here," Engie murmurs after an hour of walking in near-silence, Captain's low humming under his breath keeping a marching beat for them to walk to.

"With that attitude, _you_ certainly are!" Captain replies cheerfully. As far as Snippy can tell, he hasn't been eating either, but he seems unaffected.

"Will you at least tell us where we're going?" Snippy grumbles.

Pilot whacks him on the shoulder. "Snippy, you are not only a shoe, you are a deaf shoe! Captain has told you a hundred times by now: we are going to Candyland!"

"Speaking of which," Engie intervenes, "I've heard that when people are starving in the wilderness, they eat their shoes."

Pilot gasps in horror. "No! Cannibalism is bad!"

"I'm talking about _this_ sort of shoe," Engie snaps, lifting his foot and waving it in the air in a rather undignified manner. "Not each other. Ugh, the very thought."

"That's stupid," Snippy says. "You can't eat leather."

"Yes you can. Leather is just cured cow skin."

"I was in a flying cow once!" Pilot pipes up. They ignore him.

"You still can't eat it," Snippy argues. The banter takes his mind off the hunger, off each weary step. "You wouldn't be able to chew through it. You'd get terrible indigestion."

"You _could_, if you were hungry enough."

"Are shoes made of cows, Captain?" Pilot asks, peering up at him.

"Cows are made of molecules and everything else is also made of molecules, ergo everything is made of cows, including shoes," Captain replies with a wise nod.

"Even me?" Pilot asks incredulously, looking down at himself.

"Indeed."

"Wow."

"With that logic," Engie can't help pointing out, "everything would be made of everything else."

"Yes! 'tis a wondrous existence, an uncomprehendable truth," the Captain declares with a sweeping arm gesture.

"That's scientifically impossible," Engie continues.

Captain wags a finger at him. "Nothing is impossible for zee Captain, the God of the Wastelands, the Ultimate Awesome one, the Supreme Superlative."

"Can you procure us food out of thin air?" Snippy asks.

"I will procure you food," Captain replies graciously. "Once we reach Candyland."

**DAY FOUR**

Engie's stomach lets out a long, slow rumble.

"It said," Pilot translates, "'_I would kill for a cheeseburger right now_.'"

Snippy's stomach rumbles in reply.

"'_I am emptier than you are_,'" Pilot says, then adds, as his own stomach releases a gurgling growl, "'_The Captain's stomach is the greatest stomach of all_!'"

"Your stomach is moderate in its praise, Pilot," Captain chides. "Ask it to elaborate."

The sound Pilot's stomach makes in response is damn near explosive. "'_The Captain's stomach is the finest, the most acidic, the one that digests most quickly! It is a stomach of mighty steel_!'" Pilot rants.

"Much better."

Snippy wonders if they're going mad from hunger, then decides that no, they were probably always this crazy.

**DAY FIVE**

"Steak," Snippy croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. "A big, juicy steak with chips and fried onions and gravy."

"Apple pie for me," Engie mutters. "Hot out of the oven with blueberries and whipped cream... why are we torturing ourselves like this?"

"My turn, my turn!" Pilot waves his hand frantically in the air. "I want a POTATO."

"...do you want anything with that potato?" Snippy questions.

Pilot tilts his head. "Umm... maybe... some cheese? A potato with a side of melted cheese! Are there potatoes in Candyland?"

"No, there is only candy," Snippy replies gravely, having long given up on trying to convince Pilot that no they are not going to Candyland. He turns to Captain, who has been without comment thus far.

"Captain? What about you?"

"Hm?" Captain glances over at him.

"What would you eat now, if you could have anything?" Snippy clarifies.

"Ahh." Captain taps one finger against his chin thoughtfully. "A most excellent question. I think I would select... a lug."

"A what?"

"A _lug_," Captain repeats, and makes a very odd hand gesture.

"I change my mind!" Pilot shouts. "I'd have a lug too!"

"Lugs are not for the weak of heart," Captain says ominously.

"But what _is _a lug?" Snippy asks. "Is it a vegetable?"

"Nay!"

"Animal?" Engie guesses. "...mineral?"

"If one must ask _what _a lug is, then one is not worthy to have one," Captain declares. "Now, chop, chop! We'll never arrive at Candyland at this rate!"

"How much farther?" Snippy asks, his feet having started to drag.

"Only a short distance," Captain replies, which is something at least.

**DAY SIX**

Once, before the apocalypse, Snippy ran out of money and couldn't afford food for a day. It was only two meals but at the time it felt like the most terrible thing in the world.

After the whale, Snippy didn't eat for two days, because he couldn't convince himself that the food before him was real. Pilot, surprisingly, was the one who kicked him out of his funk, declaring that "THE FOOD IS REAL YOU STUPID SLUG, I KNOW WHAT RADIOACTIVE SPIDERS LOOK LIKE AND THEY DON'T LOOK LIKE BAKED BEANS. THOSE ARE BAKED BEANS YOU NINCOMPOOP."

After the Cancer incident, Snippy couldn't look at food without thinking of the hole in his stomach, and it took him a while to work up to each bite, to swallow without worrying about something being damaged inside.

By day six Snippy doesn't even feel hungry anymore, just vaguely nauseous and lightheaded.

They keep walking.

**DAY SEVEN**

Captain has been humming under his breath for the last half hour, the music growing steadily more dramatic until finally, as they stand outside the supermarket, it has worked up to a sensational crescendo.

"Da-da-da, dum-dum-dum-DAAA," he sings, flinging his arm out. "I present to you: Candyland!"

Snippy stares up at the supermarket, with its broken glass and boarded up windows and hostile waste-landers lurking within, and wants to cry.

It's Engie who speaks first.

"Seven days," he growls, "You took _seven days_ just to lead us back to this place?"

"This is Candyland," Captain replies solemnly. "There is food within."

"This is a supermarket, and it's full of raiders," Snippy says wearily. "Remember what happened last time Pilot tried to get supplies?"

Pilot, who until now has been standing quietly by Captain's side, brings his hand up to his nose and glances at the Captain with something akin to doubt.

"Did the nasty men take over Candyland?" he asks.

Captain tilts his head. "Indeed. Someone has broken into the magical world of lollies." His grip around his mug tightens. "What boobery! They have defiled the awesome sweets. We must put them in their place."

"Okay, this is insane." Engie sits down heavily on the ground and holds his head in his hands. "We're exhausted, drained, haven't eaten in a week, and have one gun between the four of us. They'll rip us to shreds like goldfish in a pool of sharks!"

Snippy licks his lips and tries not to think of fish and chips.

"Ah! But you forget something, mein minion." Captain jabs his thumb towards himself. "They do not have an awesome Captain like you do!"

"I can barely walk in a straight line," Engie grumbles. "You want to go in there and get yourself killed, go ahead. I'm going to sit here."

"And starve to death?" Snippy inquires flatly.

"And eat my shoe."

"I will fight beside you, Captain!" Pilot yells, accompanied by a loud gurgle from his stomach. "I will fight for the liberty and deliverance of Candyland!"

"That's the spirit!"

"How do you plan to go about this?" Snippy asks, because they really don't have any other choice. The supermarket is the only source of food in the area, and while they might have managed to make it out of the foodless zone a week ago, it's too late now.

"We can't just stroll in there and start shopping," he continues. "We need a plan."

"Your capacity to state the obvious astounds me," Captain replies, flapping a hand at him. "Of course I have a plan!"

"Pray share," Engie says drily.

Captain tells them.

Snippy face palms.

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><p>Theodore "Thug" Freeman survives because he is ruthless. A massive figure of nearly seven feet, with the build of a bulldozer and a butt-ugly face that even his mother struggled to love, he is the sort of person you surrender your lunch money to because you rather like having your nose in the middle of your face.<p>

This grandiose bully, however, stumbles out of the supermarket at precisely 3pm on a Friday afternoon wondering how, exactly, someone has managed to get the better of him.

There is a mouse trap hanging from one of his ears, his gas mask has a smiley face draw on it in liquid paper, and worst of all, his pants are missing.

All he can remember is some little green-eyed twerp, a man with a stupid hat, and singing. A lot of singing. Singing accompanied by tea splashing around and someone trying to stuff a shoe in his mouth.

Scratching his head, Thug turns and stares at the supermarket he has limped out of. The purple-eyed hat-man waves cheerily at him from behind one of the broken windows. Thug flinches and backs away, before turning and running, pantless, through the wasteland. He wonders what became of his friends.

Shortly afterwards an urban legend sprouts up among the wastelanders about a haunted supermarket sporting a pants-stealing, shoe-eating ghost.

No one dares approach again.

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><p>The Captain strides through the aisles with a purpose, his tired minions struggling to keep up behind him. They sweep through the kitchenware aisle, hurdle a fallen shelf, and move rather hurriedly through the dairy section, which smells like sour milk.<p>

Finally the Captain draws to a halt. He flings his arms out dramatically and declares: "Candyland!"

Snippy looks up at the Candyland display, a shelf with a few broken chocolate eggs standing next to a mournful looking cardboard cutout of the Easter Bunny. Someone has drawn a moustache and something rather more obscene on the rabbit in permanent marker.

Pilot gasps and falls to his knees. "Candyland!" he cries. "We have arrived! See, Mr Snippy, I told you the Captain would bring us here."

"Very nice," Snippy says flatly. "Can we go find some food now?"

"Not until you worship the splendour of Candyland," the Captain says sternly.

Several sarcastic comments about the graffitied rabbit later, they are finally sitting in a circle with salvaged cans of food around them. Snippy could just about collapse with relief.

_Looks like we're not about to starve to death after all, then..._

Baked beans have never tasted so good.

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><p><strong>Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Be brutally honest with me, folks. I can take it.<strong>

**A/N: Between this and Shatterglass, you guys probably think I'm obsessed with baked beans. Maybe I am. -shifty eyes- **


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